The Hobbit: An Unexpected FanFic
by AnaSwanFic
Summary: This story follows the unexpected journey of Bilbo Baggins and the company of Thorin Oakenshield as they go on an adventure to reclaim Thorin's birth right; the Kingdom of Erebor. It is told from the perspective of Nephil. An elven Princess and the youngest daughter of Lord Elrond who is asked to join the quest by Gandalf the Grey.
1. Chapter 1: Lady of Rivendell

Author: Ana Swan

World of: Tolkien

*this story is a work of fiction. It may or may not stick 100% to the Tolkien universe. Some major events have been pushed aside to fit these stories in. Please note this is just for fun and is not meant to be taken seriously.

 **Chapter 1:**

 **Lady of Rivendell**

As the sun set, the last bit of light stolen by night's dark clouds, Nethil sat by her favourite tree in the royal garden and watched as fire bugs danced to the calming sound of swucran song. The sound they made as they awoke from their slumber was said to be so calming that it could tame an Orc. Nethil wasn't entirely sure that was even a possibility and no one had ever dared test the theory out. Still, regardless of whether the myths were true or not this was her favourite part of the day. It had been many years since her father, Elrond Lord of Rivendell, had promised her hand in marriage to the Elvenking Thranduil. It was as a sign of peace and harmony between the two clans, to prove to all those in Middle Earth that the elves were not to be trifled with. That they stood strong as a race and their numbers, combined, were mighty. Nethil understood the reasoning behind it but her heart broke that day. It would be a loveless union and she felt as if she had lost all her freedom. Thranduil fell short when it came to love and passion but this was not entirely his fault. He had loved once but she'd been taken from him and Nethil could sense he had never truly forgiven fate for their cruelty. Still, this was the hand fate had dealt her and while her heart dreamt of wild adventures and true love forged in starlight she could not disobey her father or break the arrangement he and the Elvenking had made. It had been many, many years since she had last seen her father and she yearned to see him again. Despite the predicament she was in because of him.

As Nethil brushed her long, fiery red hair she felt a presence behind her. Legolas, son of the Elvenking, sat down beside her dressed in his formal attire. A deep hole seemed to swell in her stomach. She had forgotten about the celebration.

"Father is not impressed," he said sternly. His voice was stern but his lips widened in to a smile and he laughed. "Hundreds came from all corners of the land to celebrate your day of birth. The party was in your honor. Imagine everyone's disappointment when the guest of honor was nowhere to be seen."

"I did not forget on purpose," she said slightly embarrassed. "My mind has been elsewhere."

"On home?" Legolas asked.

"No," Nethil mumbled. "I'm just not entirely sure of what my future holds and if I'm honest that frightens me. I don't like not having control."

"At least you and my father have that in common," joked Legolas. "He told me only today how he does not know how to subdue you. You're wild of heart and can think for yourself. This displeases him I think."

Nethil laughed. She did find it rather amusing that she made her King frustrated.

"Your father is a great King but even he cannot keep me chained like a common spielkt. Though he does try annoyingly hard to do so. This is something my own father learnt many, many years ago."

Ever since she was a little girl Nethil had always had a mind of her own. She would be up and dressed and already outside ruining her dresses before the nursemaids had even awoke themselves. Growing up as the youngest with an elder sister like Arwen had not been easy. Arwen was beautiful and graceful and everyone loved her. While her people loved her too she was seen as more of a ruffian than a Lady of Rivendell. She yearned for freedom and adventure, not the confines of a palace. Her father had always joked that it would take something more than an elven boy to keep her a grounded wife. Someone wild, passionate and stubborn, just like her. Yet, here she was; betrothed to an Elvenking who was anything but wild and passionate; though he was infuriatingly stubborn. Nethil felt her life was being wasted here and she prayed for something or someone to give her a reason to run away from here. For a cause, perhaps, that she wouldn't feel guilty about.

"Does it make you uncomfortable having me here?" Nethil asked Legolas. She turned to look at his beautiful face, glowing in the moonlight. He was hundreds of years older than her and yet she was going to become his new mother soon. Of course, they saw each other as good friends more than mother and son.

"At first, yes. I will admit that," he said, his grey eyes looking in to her blue ones. "I like having you here though. Believe it or not you've had a greater impact on my father than he'd care to admit. You've made a great impact on everyone here in the Woodland Realm."

Nethil was surprised to hear this. Mainly because since she'd arrived here she'd felt more alone than ever, even with someone like Legolas to talk to. She knew she didn't fit in here. She didn't belong.

"Do you think it would be terribly unkind of me to just retire to my bedchamber? I'm not in the mood for celebrations this evening."

Legolas smiled and helped her to her feet. "I think that will be alright. Ill let father know. However, I do have something for you first."

Legolas held up a finger to motion her to wait a moment and he disappeared. He wasn't long gone however and soon came back holding a piece of material in his hands like it was a precious child. This wasn't just a piece of material though; Nethil could tell it was only used to wrap whatever was beneath it. Legolas presented it to her and watched as she unwrapped it. She heard the clang of a blade and pulled out of its sheath an incredible sword with moon stones in the handle.

"It's the finest steel known to elves. Forged by Eol himself and encrusted with moon stones. I acquired it for you long ago but was waiting until today to give it to you."

Nethil was speechless by the gift. She had never received anything like it before. It was beautiful.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly. Nethil re-sheathed the sword and wrapped it back up in its protective cloth before wrapping her arms around Legolas' neck.

To anyone who did not know Nethil a sword would seem an odd present for a future Elvenqueen but Nethil had been training secretly with Legolas for many decades now. She had always had to borrow a sword borrowed from the armory for their sessions but now she had her own and with the power of moon stones in the handle it would give her even greater strength. She was always bestowed with gifts that related back to the stars and moon. She drew her powers, her gift, from the heavens and skies; an ability that she and she alone could wield though it was not entirely known why.

Nethil locked her arm with Legolas' and they began the walk back to the palace. "Oh, and by the way nothing you do could ever be unkind, Nethil."

Legolas walked Nethil back to her bedchambers where they said their goodnights and parted ways. Since she'd arrived here hundreds of years ago she and Thranduil had slept in separate chambers. This would continue until they were married but even then Nethil was certain she'd barely ever see him except at formal occasions. Their marriage was to be purely ceremonial. To show their enemies that there was no discord between the different elven clans.

Nethil closed the door to her chambers and slipped off her dress, allowing it to fall to the floor around her ankles in a heap. The windows were open, allowing a soft cool breeze to enter the room. As the cold night air brushed past her and the moonlight danced on her skin she felt her breasts harden ever so slightly as her skin erupted in goose bumps. She walked over to her bed which had been carved out of the stump of a large, dead tree and picked up her spider-silk nightgown. It had been a gift from her sister quite a few years ago; an old item of clothing that once belonged to their dear mother. It was soft and light and fitted her like a glove. Nethil blew out the flame in the lantern beside her dressing table casting the room in darkness save for the moonlight streaming through the open windows. Just as she pulled back the sheets on her bed there was a soft but confident knock at the door. Who could that be at this time of night? Surely the Elvenking had not summoned her at this hour.

As she opened the door she was shocked to find Thranduil standing there. It was quite out of character for him to come to her. She bowed her head in respect and stepped aside so he could enter.

"Good evening Nethil," he said walking past her. "I seem to have caught you at an inconvenient time." He was referring of course to her nightgown which she realized was inappropriately see-through in the light.

"Of course not my King, you're more than welcome to stop by my chambers whenever you'd like."

This was highly unusual behavior for Thranduil. Not once had he stopped by her chambers personally in all the years she had been here. His unusual presence here did intrigue her and she was already tired of using pleasantries.

"You were not at the celebrations tonight, correct?"

Now it made sense. She was in trouble. She'd received many tongue lashings from her soon-to-be husband for her tardiness and lack of grace but tonight was different. He'd always summoned her in the past, never had he come to her.

"Forgive me, my King. I was unwell and did not feel up to socializing."

Thranduil turned to look at her, his cold eyes staring right through her. There was something unusual about him tonight. Nethil couldn't put her finger on it but his eyes were wild and he seemed agitated. Nethil's heart raced behind her ribcage.

"You have lived here as my ward for a long time and the time has finally come that you are of appropriate age for us to wed. I was hoping to introduce you to a few important people this evening because of this fact. I have to say I'm disappointed that I was not at least informed of your decision to be absent. I did not realize your people were as rude as they are rudimentary."

Nethil narrowed her eyes at his words and tone of voice. He may be her King but never would he ever rule over her.

"I said I was sorry," she said scathingly. "You talk of rudeness and yet here you are in my private quarters talking to me like one of your subjects."

"You are one of my subjects," he spat back. He stormed over to her, his face inches from her own. "You would do well to remember your place."

"No I am not one of your subjects. I am to be your wife and therefore soon I will be Queen and you will not talk to me this way. Now, if you'll be so kind I'd like you to leave. It is after all my birthday and as you did not invite my father to tonight's celebrations I am not in a forgiving mood."

Nethil brushed past him but gasped as he reached out and grabbed a fistful of her hair. He pulled her towards him, tilting her head back as he gripped her hair tighter. His lips were brushing against her cheekbone as his eyes closed and his free hand grasped her breast and then slid down her body to between her legs. Thranduil spun her around to face him, grabbing her hands and pinning them behind her back. She could feel his heart beating faster as the desire in his eyes grew. He placed his lips against her neck, biting her softly as one of his hands lifted her nightgown up. She quivered at his touch having never felt a man's hands on her body before. He released his grip on her hands and Nethil wrapped one around his neck while the other helped his hand explore her body. His breathing grew heavier on her neck and he kissed his way up to her lips. As their lips locked Nethil felt her body grow hot. Thranduil's fingers explored her deeper and she ran her hands through his long blonde hair, pressing her body against his. She could feel him harden beneath his robes and he took his hands off her only to push her down on to her knees. As his manhood surfaced, hard and throbbing in his hand, she took it in her mouth. Unsure but unexpectedly excited for what was to come. Nethil's tongue stroked his member as she teased the tip of it with her lips. He gasped and trembled at her touch and she found herself to be thoroughly enjoying having him react in such a way. She took as much of him down her throat as she could before her eyes began to water. He pulled himself out, her saliva dripping off the tip of his hard cock.

Thranduil placed his hand under her chin, forcing her to look up in to his face. It was flushed, slightly, but stern again. She got to her feet and he placed his lips on her's. He then pulled away, grabbing her hands and pinning them behind her back again. He led her over to her bed and pushed her down, bending her over the side. He lifted up her nightgown and Nethil felt cold air against her backside. Thranduil didn't say a word; he just lifted his robes up over his head and tossed them on the floor behind them. His right hand gripped her right cheek as his left hand teased her clit, gently. She waited with baited breath and felt him rub his throbbing member against her wet lips. Then, without as much as a warning she felt him enter her; slowly at first but deeply until he had filled her entirely. She gasped and moaned loudly as he moved in and out of her. He was precise with his thrusts and each one was hard. She could hear his scrotum slap against her skin each time. He groaned as he penetrated her, gaining speed and momentum the more he enjoyed himself. With one last, deep thrust he kept himself inside her, bending over her and pressing his stomach against her back.

"You might be my Queen soon but I still rule over you," he grunted. "Don't you forget that."

He rolled her over on to her back and lifted her legs up, placing one leg over each of his shoulders. He grabbed her hips and pulled her towards him locking his eyes with her's as he entered her once again. This time she could see the determination on his face. With each thrust of his pelvis his lips curled in to a snarl but his eyes never left her's. She could feel a heat rise in her body as she readied herself for the climax. She threw her head back as she came. The pleasure was so intense the muscles in her opening tightened around his cock. He grunted as he too came, filling her with his hot seed. He collapsed on top of her, just enough that she could feel the heat from his skin but not that she was smothered. He breathed heavily in her ear as his hair brushed her sternum and his hands gripped the sheets above her head. He kissed her once again, this time his hands wrapped around her waist. He pulled her on top of him and they lay together catching their breath.

Thranduil's fingers gripped her arm as he held her. Still, he did not say a word but Nethil didn't mind. Her head was buzzing from the thrill of their love making. If truth be told however, she wasn't sure what to do now. She didn't move she didn't breathe loudly or make any sound. She knew his temper was short and she was not sure how long he'd be this tolerant for.

Sure enough, her arm began to fall asleep and as soon as she moved even slightly to relieve it Thranduil loosened his grip on her and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He stood up and put on his robes before leaving without so much as a goodnight. Nethil watched him go and then sighed, letting her head fall back on to the pillows. She felt strangely at peace however and pulled the bed sheets up to her chin before drifting off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: The Invitation

**Chapter 2**

 **The Invitation**

The next evening after supper Nethil was summoned to Thranduil's chambers. She had a sheepish feeling she knew why but found herself fearing the idea of his hands on her body once more. The feelings she had felt during their moment of passion had been wonderful. The feelings afterwards not so much. She knocked on his door quietly before hearing him say, "enter."

She turned the door handle and pushed it open to reveal an incredible room decorated with paintings and rare items Thranduil had collected over the years. She saw her King standing by the window and tentatively went over to join him. He was looking out over his Kingdom admiring its beauty.

"I've been blessed with many glorious things in my lifetime and some not so glorious." He gently touched the left side of his face with his hand, removing it however when he saw Nethil watching him. "When you are Queen so shall you."

He left her side to stand beside a large chest at the foot of his bed. He opened it gently to reveal a mass amount of gold and jewels that Nethil could only dream of. Every piece was exquisite and well crafted. It was a very fine collection. Sitting on top of the pile of gold was a small square wooden case. Thranduil lifted it carefully and brought it over to her. His steely grey eyes locked with her's as he opened it to reveal a beautiful gold circlet adorned with moon stones.

"This is yours now," he said handing the case over to her. "I was to give it to you at your celebration but as you did not attend I could not. You'll find it to be quite befitting a Queen of the Elves of the Woods."

Nethil took the case and held it in her hands. It was a beautiful gift but why was he giving it to her? Surely it wasn't just a birthday present. Thranduil did not seem the type to want to part with his gold easily.

"Thankyou," she said, not knowing what else to say.

Thranduil turned his back on her to stare out the window once more and she took that as a sign for her to leave. As she reached the door the Elvenking turned to face her his expression solemn.

"Do you want to know why I requested your hand all those years ago?" he asked her.

Nethil stopped in her tracks, dead still. She looked back over her shoulder at him.

"You walk in stardust and moonlight. You possess a great power that I do not understand and yet I find myself drawn to it. You are worthy of a crown and I am worthy of such power. Together, we will smight our enemies where they stand and remind our allies who has the true power in all of Middle Earth. I fear, however, that you do not fully understand the gifts bestowed upon you and you do not realize the potential at your fingertips. The Lady Galadriel can only teach you so much. Tomorrow your true training will begin so you can learn how to wield that power inside of you. Then, we will rule for another thousand years and nothing will be able to stop us."

There was a crazed look in his eyes. A look that frightened Nethil and suddenly she felt very nauseous. So that was why she was here, that was why he shared her bed last night. He wanted her power; he wanted to wield it for his own purposes. She felt dirty and trapped. While she'd never really liked it here she had always felt safe; not anymore. She turned on her heel and left his bedchambers as fast as her feet could carry her. When she was alone away from prying eyes she collapsed against the wall and slid down to the ground, tears streaming down her face. She wanted to leave but knew she could not. Even if she did not care about honoring her father's promise there was no way she could escape the guards and if she did where would she go? She couldn't go back home, her father would just send her back. She had nowhere else to go. No other purpose than to stay here and be wed in seven day's time.

As the tears rolled down her face she felt a soft breeze against her face. It could not be from any window, she had fled deep to the heart of the palace. She opened her eyes and looked up to find a beautiful white bird fluttering in front of her as if in slow motion.

"Where did you come from?" she wondered, admiring its beauty. Attached to its leg was a tiny scroll. She took the bird on her finger, pried the scroll from its string and watched as the bird flew on to the ground in front of her. It was as if he was waiting for her reply before he flew off again.

Nethil opened the tiny scroll, barely managing to read the inscription written on it. It simply read:

 _Dearest Nethil,_

 _I am deeply sorry for missing your birthday but hope this long overdue gift finds you in time. I seem to find myself on an adventure where I need the knowledge of an elf who has studied the dead, ancient language of the dwarves. I would very much like you to join the company of Thorin Oakenshield as our linguist. All the details of this venture are on the back of this parchment. I believe my promise of an adventure is long overdue. We will wait for you on the borders of the Shire in two days time at mid morning should you choose to join us. Please reply immediately and I must stress that you cannot tell a single soul about this offer or it becomes void. There will be a contract awaiting your signature on arrival._

 _Best regards,_

 _Gandalf the Grey_

Nethil turned the letter over and read the details on the back. The mission was simple enough and yet very dangerous. They were to enter Erebor, the lost empire that Thorin Oakenshield was heir to and help the Prince and his company take back their home from Smaug the Magnificent. It was a cause Nethil was more than eager to be a part of. She'd met the dwarf Prince many years ago when his Kingdom had been at its greatest. Long before it had been conquered by Smaug. She'd only just left Rivendell to join Thranduil days before they went to see Thorin's grandfather, the King. They had been there to show their respects but an altercation between King Thror and Thranduil had them leave on terms that were not those of friends. Still, all it had taken was a look between the young dwarf Prince and herself for Nethil to feel something she'd never felt for anyone before. Their eyes had locked after she'd lifted her head from a bow and in that single moment, he smiled at her. Not the kind of smile that Thranduil had given her many times where there was always this feeling of secrecy behind it. No, a smile so warm it had temporarily chased away any fear she had in her heart of beginning a new life away from home. A spark had risen between them, she'd felt it in the core of her very being but it had not meant to be. She was betrothed to Thranduil and nothing could break that. She had never seen Thorin again after that day and shortly after the encounter she'd heard about the attack from Smaug and how Thranduil had refused to help them fight for their home. She had not spoken to the Elvenking for several weeks after that incident and as time rolled on she'd forgotten about Thorin having presumed him dead. To hear he was alive made the decision to join them an easy one. Nethil stood up, her heart racing as she quickly thought over her escape plan. She took the gentle bird in her hand and whispered in its ear.

"Tell Gandalf I will meet him in two days time at the border of the Shire and tell him thank you."

As the bird flew up and away Nethil scrunched the letter in her hand and tossed it in to the first flame she came by. It was safer if no one knew of the quest she was about to be a part of. Nethil hurried to her chambers to pack only the necessities she would need for the trip. If she was to reach the borders of the Shire in two days she would have to leave now on the fastest horse at her disposal. She quickly slipped on her riding gear – which also doubled as her training attire – and packed her bow and brand new sword. She would carry light so as not to slow her down. On her way out she spied her late supper sitting on a stool near her vanity desk. Sometimes the elves that prepared the food for the palace would keep the left overs and share them with her once everyone else had gone to bed. She very rarely ate with Thranduil, she spent as little time in his company as possible and if that meant missing a meal then so be it. Despite the moment of bliss she'd experienced the previous night she could not forget his words to her earlier. She was here purely because he saw something he could gain through her. That was not a life she wanted to live. She did not want a loveless marriage where her husband was purely interested in the magical talents she possessed. That wasn't a marriage that was a means to an end.

Slipping silently out of her room Nethil walked the dark, warm halls of the palace. She could hear mumbling in the distance but it was too far away to concern her. The only thing she was worried about was passing the guards unseen. Occasionally they fell asleep at their stations but more often than not they were incredibly vigilant. As she neared the door that kept her from her freedom she was shocked but happily surprised to find that it had been left unattended. Perhaps the guard had left to grab a bite to eat? It didn't matter, this was her chance to leave without having to sneak out or make up an excuse. Her hand curled around the doorknob when a loud, sharp voice called out to her.

"Lady Nethil, what are you doing?"

The guard had come back and was glaring at her. She had to think up an excuse quick before he sounded the alarm.

"I was just going for a walk to get some fresh air," she lied. "It's awfully stuffy in my bedchambers."

"That is why you have a window and a balcony," he replied in a condescending tone. "To get fresh air without having to leave the palace."

"It's not the same," she said with a strained smile. "I want to explore the forests, feel nature at my feet. I cannot do that from within here."

"You know that would be very unwise considering the dangers that now lie in the forest."

"Well then I will stroll the grounds if I cannot walk through the forest."

Nethil was running out of excuses and could see the guard did not believe a single word she said.

"If you're only going for a walk why have you packed as if you're leaving for a few days? I do not think the King would approve." He turned on his heel and in a panic Nethil withdrew her sword from its sheath and hit him over the back of the head with the pommel.

"Im sorry," she whispered before opening the door. "You really left me no other choice." The night air hit her hard in the face, filling her senses with all the wonderful smells of the forest; it was what freedom smelt like. She hadn't entirely lied to the guard. She was going to take an alternative route. One that would take her past the stables so she could grab her horse and ride out of the Woodland realm without having to go through the infested woods.

As she came across the stables, fireflies hovered around her lighting her way. They followed her as if they wished to help her escape. She looked up at the night sky. The moon was complete and smiled down at her, shining brighter than any star in the sky. It was a sign that she was making the right choice.

"Tinechor amin ithil atara," she whispered. She was asking the moon, her mother, to keep her safe and protect her on her journey.

In the stables the horses greeted her softly, their neighs friendly and supportive. There she saw her loyal steed; Elena. She had been a gift from her father to accompany Nethil on her journey to her new life here with the Elvenking. She straddled her gracefully, producing some leftover fruit from the kitchens as a treat.

"A' i'- Shire," she commanded gently. Elena whinnied and stomped her hooves in to the dry ground before bolting out of the stables. Nethil couldn't help but release a squeal of glee as her friend carried her further away from her prison. This was Nethil's first taste of freedom in hundreds of years and it was incredible. Her heart no longer felt caged and kept in darkness, it now felt light and free and she could not wait to start this quest and lay eyes on the dwarf Prince once more.


	3. Chapter 3: The Dwarf Prince

**Chapter Three**

 **The Dwarf Prince**

As the sun rose over the Shire Nethil took a hefty swig from her water container. Her steed Elena was resting nearby, chewing the grass, having spent the most part of the last thirty-six hours riding with only a few breaks in-between. They'd arrived just in time too as in the distance she could see fifteen riders heading her way. From the looks of it Gandalf was leading with fourteen, no, thirteen dwarves following. The fifteenth member of their company was smaller than a dwarf, possibly the size of a hobbit. Nethil frowned. She'd never heard of an adventurous hobbit before. She had to of been mistaken. It mattered not for she did not mind the company of hobbits and dwarves and wizards. As Elena rested in the shade of a large tree Nethil climbed the same tree to get a better view of those riding towards her. Apart from Gandalf they were all on ponies. The wizard, much like her, was tall enough to ride a proper sized horse. They did look a funny sort should anyone else see them travelling. One would wonder why a wizard with a tall blue hat and a long grey beard was leading a company of dwarves and one hobbit. To Nethil however, this odd company meant her freedom and she was not at all going to judge. The company of fifteen was beneath her now, having stopped as soon as they'd seen Elena dozing.

"Halt!" called Thorin Oakenshield from just behind Gandalf. "Gandalf who is this sixteenth member you've kept so quiet?" Thorin's eyes were on the rider less steed.

"Oh she's here somewhere," said Gandalf. "But where I do not know."

Nethil, from her spot high above whistled the tune of a Kalgu. A rare bird that Gandalf had given her once when she was a child. The wizard smiled as the dwarves and yes, it was a hobbit, looked around for the source of the noise.

"Look, up there in the tree," one of the dwarves yelled.

Nethil jumped down, landing gracefully on her feet a few feet in front of Gandalf. The old wizard slid off his horse, a smile on his face as wide as his outstretched arms, and embraced her.

"Oh my dear girl," he said adoringly. "It's been a very long time."

"Too long," said Nethil wrapping her arms around her old friend. "How I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," chuckled Gandalf. "I am very pleased that you were able to accept my invitation."

"I will do whatever I can to help," she said.

"How have you been?"

"That, my friend, is a very long and tiresome story. Probably best not spoken of right now."

Gandalf glanced over his shoulder and sighed, nodding.

"I do think you're quite right. Well, let's not dawdle then." The wizard turned to face the rest of his company and in a loud, booming voice said, "Let me introduce you to Nori, Ori, Dori, Fili, Kili, Oin, Gloin, Bombur, Bofur, Bifur, Balin and Dwalin and Bilbo Baggins."

Each of the dwarves bowed their heads in greeting. The young, good looking one, Kili she believed his name to be, waved his fingers at her with a handsome smile on his face. The hobbit, Bilbo, greeted her as hobbits do.

"It's very nice to meet you," he said.

The sound that came out of Nethil's mouth was something between a squeak and a squeal.

"He's so small," she said to Gandalf, taking long strides to stand beside Bilbo and his pony. "You're adorable."

Gandalf chuckled under his breath and Bilbo blushed.

"Thankyou?" he said, not really sure how to respond. Gandalf cleared his throat at the look Bilbo had thrown him and regained his composure.

"This is Nethil; she is the youngest daughter of Lord Elrond," the wizard announced. "She studied the ancient language of the dwarves under her father's tutelage and will be most helpful on this journey."

"You invited a she-elf along without consulting me?" said a deep, angry voice. Thorin, who had momentarily disappeared to scout the area, arrived at the front of the line. He did not look pleased.

"Ah yes, Nethil this is Thorin Oakenshield; the leader of our troop." Gandalf cast him a dirty look which Thorin promptly ignored.

"Yes we've met, once. A very long time ago," she said a little breathlessly.

Something was wrong. This was the same dwarf she had met many years ago but he had changed. His heart felt cold and closed off but very lonely. It was filled with grief turned inwards and expressed as anger and hatred. The reading she got from Thorin was not a pleasant one. She could help him though and not just by reading their map. Her gifts allowed her to help others heal from within and Thorin was in a lot of repressed pain though he'd never admit it.

Thorin ignored her comment and looked back at his company who were all giving him the same look. Neither of them were too sure whether Gandalf's decision to have her come along with them was a wise one but none of them dared question Gandalf, especially after how he'd reacted at their disapproval of Master Baggins as their burglar. Seeing they had no choice Balin cleared his throat and produced from his pocket a long sheet of parchment and a quill.

"I assume Gandalf mentioned a contract for you to sign?" he asked.

Nethil walked over to him and smiled, taking the parchment in one hand and the quill in the other. The old dwarf seemed slightly taken aback by her smile but offered one in return as she signed.

"Thankyou very much my dear," he said with a wink.

"Wonderful," boomed Gandalf. "Now that we've got our last member what say we all hurry along then?"

Later that evening they took shelter for the night in an open cave overlooking the land around them. It was a beautiful night with a nice, cool breeze that complimented the starry night. Nethil loved night time, she loved sitting beneath the stars and moon. Being what she was it was in her blood and she drew her energy from their light. Most of the dwarves were sleeping but for Fili and Kili who were eating and Thorin, who was leaning against a large rock with his eyes half closed, brooding. Gandalf leant against a tree trunk, smoking his pipe while Nethil read over the map Gandalf had presented to her moments ago. She had no doubt that she could decipher every single rune but they would need to wait a few more days until a crescent moon was high above them before the ancient language presented itself to her.

"I doubt Ill have any problems reading this," Nethil murmured to the grey wizard quietly so the others could not hear. "You asked the right elf for help. My father taught me everything he knew but my studies of this language continued beyond his knowledge. However, we will need to wait until the crescent moon which isn't for a few days."

"I thought as much," mumbled Gandalf. "Don't tell them that would you?"

Nethil was confused. "I don't understand," she confessed. "Why not?"

"I need them to believe that you have failed in your attempts to read this map and that we have no other choice but to seek your father for the answers."

Nethil, still confused, watched as Bilbo, frustrated by the snoring of the dwarves, stood up and went over to the ponies. He pulled an apple from his jacket, sneakily feeding a pony before rubbing her nose. As she smiled at the Halflings kindness something clicked. Something Thorin had said earlier. It was not the words he had spoken but the tone in his voice. She turned her attention back to Gandalf.

"You want Thorin to meet my father regardless of whether we need to go to Rivendell or not don't you?"

Gandalf took his pipe in his mouth and winked.

"It will be good for him. You will learn that soon."

Nethil glanced over at Thorin who was staring at her, watching her carefully. Then, a loud sound in the distance caught the ear of Bilbo who suddenly looked very anxious.

"What was that?" he asked, pointing back over his shoulder.

"Orcs," Kili replied quietly.

Nethil didn't think it sounded like orcs and by the look on Fili's face he wasn't sure why his brother had answered with that either.

"Orcs?" reiterated Bilbo, suddenly becoming very jumpy. Thorin sat up, slightly on guard.

"Throat cutters," chimed in Fili. "They'll be dozens of them out there."

"They strike in the wee small hours of the night when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet, no screams. Just lots of blood."

Nethil glared at the young dwarves. They were teasing Bilbo, trying to scare him. She did not find it funny. Bilbo's face seemed to drain of blood and he turned to face the dark. Who knew what violent, awful thoughts were going through his head. Fili and Kili turned to each other and sniggered under their breaths.

"You think that's funny? You think a night raid by Orcs is a joke?" growled Thorin. He did not approve of their teasing either but for a completely different reason than Bilbo's discomfort.

"We didn't mean anything by it," mumbled Kili, ashamed.

"No you didn't. You know nothing of the world."

Bilbo had caught on now; he'd realized they were taking him for a fool. Nethil grabbed a pebble from beside her and tossed it towards Kili and Fili, missing them by an inch. They turned to her, bewildered and she just motioned that she was keeping both eyes on them. Her attention quickly turned to Thorin as he stormed past them, towards the ponies and the edge of the cliff. He stood there, quietly; a silent protector of the night against all things evil and cruel. As he walked past her Nethil could feel the energy he was giving off in waves. It made her heart ache to see him in such distress.

"Don't mind him laddy," said Balin to Kili. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate Orcs."

This caught Nethil's attention. She'd heard a little since the fall of Erebor what had happened to the dwarves but in Thranduil's Kingdom not much was spoken about dwarves. Thranduil cared not about those who lived outside the borders of his realm.

Balin continued to tell his tale of Thorin's grandfather, King Thror, and his quest to take back the ancient dwarf Kingdom of Moria. He explained how they fought hard against their enemy, the Orcs, who had beaten them to it. He talked of one, great pale Orc who had sworn an oath to wipe out the line of Durin and how he'd started by beheading the King.

"Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. Taken prisoner or killed, we do not know."

As Balin continued, Nethil watched Thorin closely. She could not see his face but she didn't have to. She was listening to his energy, his aura and his heart beat. As the old dwarf's tale became darker so did Thorin's energy. The tale brought back memories of a dark, dismal time and along with those memories came the pain. Thorin was drowning in it. He did a good job at not letting his company see it and for that he had their respect. They saw him as their leader, their King under the mountain. The only dwarf any of them would follow to the ends of Middle Earth and back again.

"Our forces rallied and drove the Orcs back; our enemy had been defeated but there was no feast or songs that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived and I thought to myself then 'There is one I could follow. There is one I could call King'."

The other dwarves had awoken by now and all, including Bilbo and Gandalf, were staring at Thorin. He turned to face them, a look of determination spread across his face and Nethil sensed a change in him. The pain was being masked by anger and pride and she found it oddly motivating. She could see why Thorin was their leader, why they followed him without question. He was strong and brave and determined to take back what was rightfully his. His quest was not shallow but driven by passion for the love of his people and his lineage.

As the storytelling came to an end and the dwarves decided to try and go back to sleep Thorin walked away from the group to an open clearing just round from the cave where Fili and Kili's fire was lit. It was quieter there, away from any snoring or chatting. Nethil stood up and followed him. She wanted to have a quick word with the Prince because she too turned in for the night.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "About your family."

Thorin didn't turn to face her but he did look over his shoulder as she spoke.

"You're sorry?" he murmured.

"I know the pain you felt, losing your home and then both your father and grandfather."

Thorin turned to face her, nothing but hatred written on his face. It scared her a little bit.

"Do not speak to me of pain. You know nothing of my pain," he growled. Elves weren't the type to be taken aback so easily. They stood their ground and let most things roll off their backs but Nethil's senses were filled to the brim with her readings on Thorin that she did not feel quite as strong. She took a step back, her mouth dropping open slightly in horror. Not because she was frightened of Thorin but because she was shocked at how his anger so easily made her tremble.

"I can help you," she said regaining most of her composure. "I can help take away the heavy burden of grief you've kept on your shoulders for so long."

"Don't you understand?" he yelled. "I don't want your help. I don't need any help from an elf, especially a young she-elf so protected by walls of wealth and nobility that the idea of her understanding anything about the cold, harsh realities of the world is laughable. What could you possibly understand of my grief? Of my torment? Do not mistake your being here an acceptance from me or my people. You are here purely because Gandalf wishes you to be. If I had my way you and your kind would be-"

"Thorin!"

Before he could finish his scathing array of words towards Nethil Gandalf's voice boomed from the distance behind them. Thorin's gaze turned from her to the wizard briefly then back at her. She refused to not make eye contact with him; she was not going to let him think her weak. He grunted and pushed past her, leaving her standing there alone. Funnily, his putrid words had not swayed her. She did not hate him either or feel any sort of resentment. His words had hurt and shocked her but she was still determined to help him in any way possible even if he did not wish for it. She would not abandon him.


End file.
